A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,112

streaked with blood. Lightning struck from the sky, felling only the unmasked men and women in soldier white.

I cut down another woman with a wave of my sword. Each time I drew more blood, the power grew and grew until my skin felt too tight. But I was too drunk with power to be in awe.

I screamed, praying Aketo and Dthazi and any others nearby would know it was a warning. I gasped as jagged bolts of crimson blood magick emerged from my skin. Dozens of them hovered in the air around me, waiting for instructions.

A terrible, terrible thing I had unleashed. One of Raina’s gifts Baccha had declined to show me. The first story I ever heard about Queen Raina the First was about her taking on an army at the shores of the Red River. A Queen of Marrow and Blood. At the time, it had terrified me. Now, though, I embraced the terror I’d become.

I was a maelstrom of blood and flesh. Girl of my nightmares and dreams.

I spun. Khimaer and Jackals and human soldiers still fought all around me. I spotted Aketo near the gate, locked in a fight between three women, all armed with dual-ended swords. Blood leaked down the side of his face.

I sent out the shards of magick, aiming for every unmasked body in soldier white. Not to deliver killing blows, but to injure them enough to surrender.

Two of Aketo’s opponents fell to their knees as the shards struck them in the chest, blood spraying where the magick entered them, but the third, standing behind him, slapped the magick away with a hand suddenly cloaked in silvery-blue flames.

I screamed, calling Aketo’s name, but the sound was swallowed in the discordant song of battle.

The woman raised her blade, preparing to cut him down, and every thought in my head went silent. Only one thing rose above the silence: I had to save him.

I refused to lose Aketo.

Between one breath and the next, I moved. Sword outstretched, heedless of who I might hurt in my haste, I harnessed the true speed he’d taught me—cashina.

Between one breath and the next, I sprinted for the gate. Blades spinning through the air seemed to slow, as graceful as dancers at Court, dipping and twirling to a grisly song.

It only seemed to take a few steps to cross the distance, but I was still too slow to parry her strike. The sword gleamed, bright as the fire she’d conjured only seconds ago, mere inches from Aketo’s back. At the last second, I shifted to instead shove him out of the way.

But as soon as I pushed Aketo, the soldier’s blade bit into my left forearm. The pain was a distant fire I could ignore as I turned to face her. I bared my teeth, and she flinched back, viciously ripping her sword from my flesh. My vision wavered as hot blood spurting from the cut coated my palm.

I held up my bloodied hand. “This was a mistake.”

It took little concentration to summon more magick. I lifted my sword in a two-handed grip, the edge of the blade dripping with blood magick. It didn’t matter that this position left me wide open. She was too afraid to make the first move. The soldier’s eyes darted behind her, showing the whites.

“Surrender,” Aketo said behind me. “Look at your companions. Most have put down their weapons already. Will you die to keep someone else in a cage?”

I didn’t take my eyes off the woman, who first shook her head when he spoke of surrendering, but Aketo had spoken truth. The last of the soldiers still fighting for their missing General were in the midst of surrendering.

It was over soon after that. Swords clattering to the ground. Dthazi began giving instructions on where they would round up the wounded soldiers and those loyal to them that required healing, but I didn’t have time to listen.

I wrapped the cut on my arm with a piece of linen; it was deep enough to require healing, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I took off running for the gate, Anali and Falun at my sides.

I skidded to a stop in front of the entrance to the tunnel, nearly sobbing at the sight of Daischa standing out front. For the look on her face was so gentle, so kind that I knew my earlier assumption was right.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” she whispered, rocking Otho, who was wailing despite her best efforts. “She left in the night, Eva.